


you say you love me but I don't know (you got me wishing I was dead)

by moonmotels



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmotels/pseuds/moonmotels
Summary: villanelle + eve + that night
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 9
Kudos: 252





	you say you love me but I don't know (you got me wishing I was dead)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.   
> -Siken

Eve swings the door open after the first knock, expecting Chinese, but gets this instead.

There she stands, one pink cheek pressed to the wooden door frame. “Hello, Eve.”

As if on cue, a bolt of lightning strikes; white hot and bold, hitting the ground beyond the hallway window that is partially obscured by the pretty honey blonde.

“Villanelle.”

“Did you miss me?” she cocks her head to the side and smirks, dark eyes sparkling like she knows a secret Eve doesn’t. Perhaps she does. 

“No,” Eve bristles, and if she’d been given a medal for lying, she’d barely get bronze.

A sharp laugh, one that sends shivers up the back of Eve’s neck. “I don’t believe that.”

Lifting her chin indignantly, Eve hopes to achieve some sort of confidence. “I could never miss someone like you.”

“Oh, Eve,” Villanelle tsks, “you’re too pretty to be good at lying.” Without an invitation, she pushes past and strolls inside the darkened apartment littered with take out containers and unread piles of magazines. Peeking down the hallway in case of nosy neighbors, Eve sighs and shuffles inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Figured we had some business to discuss,” Villanelle props herself up on the kitchen chair like she belongs there, sipping tea on Sunday mornings while reading the paper. “Love what you’ve done with the place, by the way.”

Eve tries to blink away the ache of domesticity settling in her chest. Trying and failing at standing her ground, she reaches for stability at the kitchen counter. “You mean since you broke in this afternoon?”

Villanelle laughs again, and this time it’s just as charming as herself. Eve finds herself becoming less and less disillusioned as time wears on. “My crotchety old grandmother could have wriggled her way in here. You really should get better locks, Eve. There’s some bad, _bad_ people out there.” 

Her accent sinks its hooks into the deepest parts of Eve’s soul and pulls her back in like a helpless catch, every time.

“People like you?”

“Ah,” Villanelle raises her eyebrows playfully here, her tongue darting out to flick across her bottom lip, “but you _enjoy_ people like me. The same way you’d enjoy a nice piece of chocolate or an orgasm.”

“I don’t,” Eve tries uselessly, “you mean nothing to me.”

Villanelle either tuned her out or refuses to show how much that statement really affects her. “You got my gift? You like it?” Her puppy dog eyes are on prominent display, like she knows Eve will fall for it.

Eve follows her gaze towards the bed where the heart shaped recorder lies next to her pillow, which she may or may _not_ have kept beside her as she’d slept restlessly for an hour or two. “I prefer flowers,” she half-jokes, but Villanelle doesn’t smile this time.

“I want to take care of you, Eve. If you wanted flowers you should have asked.”

“I don’t want anything from you, I want you to leave me alone.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Eve squares her shoulders. “I do.”

Villanelle ignores her and stands on leggy limbs, opening the refrigerator door and searching for something like she lives here and this is her food. Eve can almost picture this happening as if everything is normal, as if their relationship isn’t based on murder and lies and deceit. Ignoring that, though, is one of her greatest accomplishments.

Taking out a carton of near-expired orange juice, Villanelle screws the cap off and drinks straight from the spout.

 _Great_ , Eve thinks, _breakfast tomorrow will be plagued with that image on my mind._

“What do you want from me, Eve? You want me to leave you? Nobody will treat you like I do. I could show you the world.”

“I’ve seen plenty of it without you.” Eve knows what kind of sick game Villanelle is playing here. She wants Eve to feel hopeless, like she needs Villanelle more than she’s ever needed anything. 

And maybe - despite circumstances, she just does.

“No,” Villanelle places the juice down carefully and turns, pandering Eve with a mournful sigh, “it’d be different with me.”

“Different how?” Eve asks, and she can almost convince herself that she regrets it. She doesn’t though. She doesn’t regret anything about the way they’re inching closer and closer together like two broken, fucked up magnets.

“You wouldn’t need to work at the filthy restaurant. You deserve more. You deserve luxury.” Villanelle is excited now, like a child on Christmas morning.

“And you could give that to me?”

“Oh, Eve,” Villanelle’s eyes light up, passion bleeding through her tone, “I could give you everything.”

Eve lifts one eyebrow and purses her lips, considering this. Shrugging, she neglects to give an answer out loud. Doing so would only complicate things.

Villanelle continues babbling on like a broken record that won’t stop. “Did you have time to think about our kiss?”

“No.” _Yes._

The frown on Villanelle’s face deepens, and Eve can see the cognitive gears in her brain working full force, as if laid out on the table in front of them. ”I did. I’ve already masturbated three times thinking of it.”

Eve wishes she had a cool towel or something to root her down to the ground, because she is suddenly weightless and very, very turned on. Running a hand through her thick waves, she sighs. “I don’t know what I was thinking. That was wrong. You caught me off guard.”

“Do I often do that? Catch you off guard?”

“Yes,” Eve admits, and she’s briefly reminded of ancient Roman torture method where lions were used to rid the city of wrongdoers. She thinks ( _knows_ ) Villanelle is the lion and she’s the wrongdoer here. Especially with the way she circles carefully, edging closer every passing second.

“I still feel your lips on mine.” Villanelle briefly traces her bruise with gentle fingers, the same one that matches Eve’s darkened mark of her own.

Eve would be lying if she said she doesn’t feel them too. Her lips buzz every time she imagines that brief kiss, tingling with the most delicious sensation. 

She is suddenly so tired of this game of cat and mouse. Doesn’t Villanelle ever get tired of chasing? Eve believes, finally, she may be ready to get caught.

With her back pressed firmly up against the counter, Eve permits Villanelle to inhabit her vision, to press their torsos flush with no space between. The feel of her body makes Eve shiver uncontrollably.

“I still love you, you know. You make me so angry but I love you.”

Eve closes her eyes and melts into the touch of Villanelle’s soft fingers tracing her jawline. “I don’t think you’re capable of love.”

Villanelle retracts her hand away as if burned. Taking two steps back, her calm and demure look is quickly replaced by anger and pent up aggression. Eve wonders, briefly, if she’d take that aggression out on her. She almost doesn’t feel sick at the idea.

“You don’t know me. I won’t ever let you.”

“I know what I need to know,” she responds softly.

“No,” Villanelle tries, but Eve continues speaking.

“I know you’re tired of being lonely. I know you want someone to hold you at night and make you breakfast in the mornings.”

Villanelle reaches for the table behind her and props herself on it, like she’s trying to seem careless and indignant. “I’m fine on my own. I always have been.”

“You’re bored.”

“You’re the bored one. What kind of life is this?”

“Is yours any better? Did you really think you could spend your whole life chasing after me?”

“I could forget about you, easily. I did it once.”

Eve is the one to reach forward now, and they both know what it means. Snatching her wrist mid-air, Villanelle studies it carefully for a moment as if she’s hidden a weapon. Then, slowly, she places it on her waist. A warning sign. A signal that says you may touch me, but on my own accord.

When Villanelle looks at her now, there’s something feral in her eyes. Eve takes her cue, stepping into her den full of death and destruction. After all this time, she might as well succumb fully to her mercy. It’s only fair, after all. It’s what Eve deserves.

Standing in between her legs, Eve lifts her hand from Villanelle’s waist and uses it to trace her jaw; the outline of her bruise, the chapped lips that part to nip at her thumb.

“Do you still want me?” she asks, and even if she knows the answer, she wants Villanelle to say it out loud. A confession to use later for blackmail, maybe. Once it’s out in the open, it can never be taken back.

Villanelle studies her cautiously, a hawk eyeing up its prey. She’s tired of the lies and deceit, for once in her life. Making severe eye contact with Eve, she blinks once and sighs, “I have always wanted you, Eve.”

Eve surges forward, knocking into Villanelle like it’s been years and not hours since they’d last parted. Her kiss is brash and exhilarating, a little reminiscent of their frenzied first one. Villanelle’s lips are pliant and soft; simply moving in tune with Eve discovering her body on her own time. She’s not overbearing or forceful, simply settling her arms around Eve’s neck and sighing in content like she’s been dying a thousand deaths per day to do this. 

Thunder rumbles around the four walls of Eve’s house like a special song meant for the two of them as they perfect their rhythmic dance. Eve wants Villanelle above and below her all at once; wants to make her writhe and moan and _scream_.

Moving towards the unmade bed blindly, Eve allows herself to be pressed down atop the mattress.

And then - Villanelle’s hands are all over her. Her clothed breasts, squeezing lightly at her neck, down her waist to make circles with her thumbs.

 _Finally_ , Eve chants in her mind, like a poem of sacred, saccharine sweet words. _Finally, finally, finally._ She pulls her own t-shirt off, pleased when Villanelle's eye glaze over at the lack of undergarments.

Villanelle’s kisses are moving up and down her torso, leaving behind a trail of sparks that burn and build up a fire until Eve’s hips are unconsciously lifting and she’s honest to God whining. It would be embarrassing, if Villanelle didn’t mercifully pull back and tug her unassuming sweatpants down.

“These are hideous,” she has time to say disgustedly, but soon after she uses her mouth for better purposes, pressing blazing hot kisses up the smooth skin of Eve’s thigh.

Maybe it’s reckless, and she should probably run screaming from the room, but Eve finds herself gasping for air. She wants more, she wants Villanelle to use her teeth and mark her. Surprised when Villanelle retracts, she sits up on forearms just in time to see said woman strip her stupidly hot blouse off, her pants and underwear following soon after. 

Villanelle’s clothes settling on her floor look oddly like they’ve belonged there this whole time, but Eve is much more occupied with the lack of shame Villanelle has in her naked form. She stands tall like a statue carved from marble, a goddess sent down from Mount Olympus. Her outfits are the layers she hides behind, all her fancy clothes shed the same way her walls break down when she’s alone with Eve. She may still have control, but this is more open than anyone will ever see her. None of this is lost on Eve.

Without wasting another second, she drops down on two knees and yanks Eve’s hips so her legs dangle off the edge.

Pulling her underwear down with quick moments, Eve is left naked on her back, wondering how she’d gotten herself in such a compromised position. Being this vulnerable in front of Villanelle almost seems cruel, because at any second she could strike like a viper and then Eve would _really_ be fucked. 

One hand whiteknuckle grips the sheets beside her as Villanelle inhales her scent deeply, tossing her head back in euphoria. Eve watches as her eyes close and she stills, seemingly taking a moment to savor having everything she’s ever wanted.

Snapping out of her state of ecstacy, Villanelle wraps a hand around each thigh and holds Eve down to slide her tongue over her. Eve cries out, her hips bucking under Villanelle’s touch. With all the taunting and teasing they’ve done, Villanelle doesn’t seem to want to draw this out. She dips her head back down, blonde waves tickling the soft skin on either side of her cheeks.

Alternating between light massaging and sucking roughly, Villanelle eats Eve out diligently; the Biblical character of the same name tasting the apple in the Garden of Eden for the first time. She works her tongue through the wetness, burying it deeper to take a wrecking ball at Eve’s normally calm and collected façade.

“For someone who hates me,” Villanelle slides her warm mouth over Eve’s clit to make her cry out, “you get very wet.”

When Eve neglects to answer, simply spreading her legs wider, Villanelle chuckles and licks a deliberate line over her clit. It feels oddly familiar, like she’s caring for Eve; the way she moves in tune with soft, pitiful cries and undulating hips.

What’s shocking, though, is how tender Villanelle is when she slips two fingers inside of Eve. It’s almost like she’s cherishing this, worshiping her like she’s kneeling at the altar of a god and not the edge of a bed with the wooden floor leaving bruises on her knees.

Eve gasps, one hand flying up behind her to grasp the headboard when Villanelle’s tongue begins creating a maddening pattern. She’s too busy writing and moaning to notice anything else in the moment - Villanelle could be inching a knife over her abdomen and she’d be none the wiser. But that’s the thrill, isn’t it? What’s Villanelle without a little danger thrumming in her blood? Certainly not someone that could have this much control over Eve, that much she knows.

With one more swipe of a warm, wet tongue, Eve arches up and comes in Villanelle’s mouth, violently and intensely.

It seems only fitting she comes this way. 

Her chest rises and falls with exertion, and she suddenly doesn’t care where Villanelle is anymore. She could make herself at home right here in Eve’s bed and it wouldn’t phase her in the least.

Swiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Villanelle closes her eyes in content and releases a deep breath. Sitting on hind legs, she regards Eve in a new light; smirks when she realizes how quickly she’s reduced her to nothing more than a boneless, quivering mess. 

“You are so beautiful, Eve.”

Eve tosses her forearm across her forehead, slick with sheen. The exhilaration has yet to leave her nerve endings yet, so she hopes to hold onto it as long as possible. Whatever happens next will certainly not be as delightful.

Villanelle kisses her between legs one more time, cherishing the way it makes her tremble. With quick movements, she lifts her lean body up on the bed and straddles Eve’s waist. Carefully; slowly, she bends down and kisses her, letting Eve taste herself off before meandering down to slide herself slowly on the thigh Eve hikes up for her.

When one hand dares to glide up Villanelle’s waist, she smacks it away quicker than Eve can blink. “I want you to watch me, Eve.”

Eve laughs breathlessly, and it’s more of a sound of annoyance than anything else. “I’m not allowed to touch?”

“Did I say you could?” Villanelle challenges her with a raised eyebrow and tilt of her head.

Tossing her hands up in surrender, Eve shifts more comfortably on her back and lifts her leg higher, just enough to make Villanelle inhale sharply. With two hands on either side of Eve’s head, she rides into a fast rhythm and closes her eyes, making no sound. 

Eve wishes she would make some sort of notion that she’s enjoying herself, but deep down, she can tell Villanelle is in a state of complete serenity. There’s a crooked smile on her lips and she’s wet, wetter than Eve believed she could be. 

Short gasps begin escaping her mouth as her clit rubs delicious contact, her fingernails clawing in the sheets hard enough to pull the threads out. Eve can tell she’s holding back, depriving herself of what she wants most. It’s her ultimate flaw; she’ll never let anyone close enough to see her really break character. Eve must be the first to see her up close and personal like this. Using her hand again, hypothetical burnt fingertips meeting charred skin, she cups Villanelle’s waist to aid pressure and sweetly asks, “Let go for me.”

Villanelle takes in one more short breath and comes hard, her hips jerking and teeth clenching from where she’s holding back a wail. Unable to control herself, she falls directly on top of Eve, their chests rising and falling in a synchronization that they’ve planned and executed perfectly over the last several years.

It’s silent for a moment, the only noises coming from far off neighbors and cars in the street down below; but they’re in another world. A world Eve has left behind as she took the leap of faith to join Villanelle in whatever fucked up dream state she lives in.

Shifting so they’re lying on their sides, face to face, Villanelle opens her mouth, perfect white teeth bright in the darkness of Eve’s apartment.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

Eve laughs exuberantly, not caring who hears. She’s beyond caring about anything as she brushes strands of soft hair from a face sculpted by gods. 

“I was thinking the same exact thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> i usually don't go here !! i'm just following the flock of lesbians please forgive me. apologies if this isn't fully in character:-)
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/moonmotels1), [tumblr](http://moonmotels.tumblr.com)


End file.
